The Valley
by SmileysBasis
Summary: The rolling dunes she’d been accustomed to now gave way to a rippling plain of black sand. The whole area seemed to moan and twist with the tremor as it shook their filaments weary and stretched their limbs to the highest degree. The Valley was awakening.
1. Silent Movie Awakening

**The Valley **

**Chapter One: Silent Movie Awakening**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing

...

The Black Sands were as cold as ever. The charcoal colored rock debris was the first to show any sign of movement, the first notation that something was stirring within the Valley. A second tremor, stronger this time, left the bony arms of skeletal and bare black trees shaking in its midst. Something pushed from the Valley's edge and a groan echoed in the vast, empty wasteland. Black merged with the already grey clouds and the ominous sun-coverers weighed heavily over the gorge. The whole area seemed to moan and twist with the third tremor as it shook their filaments weary and stretched their limbs to the highest degree.

The Valley was awakening.

The charcoal black sands tumbled down their own hills and merged with the golden sand at its edge. The barrier of brightness was broken and the darkness spread and infiltrated the once warm grains, making them cold and colorless. White sands. The gold was all but being sucked from the sand, as if the heat and color were merely objects to be obtained by the black grains, giving them sustenance, making them stronger. It spread, the white turning black with every quarter mile.

The expansion was characterized by another enormous moan from the Valley, its tremor almost reaching civilization. Once the scent of human tidings corresponded with the air around it the advancement of the black sands began to slow. It had fed too eagerly on whatever had released it and a confrontation with inhabitants could be troublesome.

It was too late.

The clean sound of ceramic breaking cut through the still air like a knife and caused the sands to come to an almost indefinite standstill. She was a woman of average age, ragged hair pulled into a loose knot at the base of her skull. Her hands trembled as they picked up the shattered pieces of her bowl and her eyes never left the border where the gold sands turned to black. Taking a step back she tried to gage where the frightening sands had come from, where the origin of these ominous grains could possibly be.

Her heart sank into her stomach.

The rolling dunes she'd once been accustomed to now gave way to a bare and rippling plain of black sand. Despite her obvious first belief that the sand was nothing but that—sand—she couldn't help but feel something… alive about it. She was drawn to it and sighed as its coolness eased the burning of her soles with a single touch. She dug her toes deeper into the pitch black sea of grains and sighed in relief as a cold shock swan through her veins. The shock spread, and spread… and spread until she was left shivering at the bank of hot and cold.

With a swift look to her feet an assortment of emotions overcame her. The first was wonder as she stood perplexed as to how she had sunk so far into the sand without knowing it; now her ankles had been consumed. The second was confusion as she questioned whether or not she'd dug her feet ankle deep subconsciously or if she was being… consumed. The third was fear as the verdict was evinced; she was being sucked into the black sands.

Before any other emotion could become her, before any scream could well in the pit of her stomach and even dream of exiting her throat, with a harsh pull she was sucked into the sand. The concave in the sand quickly became convex as a single ceramic piece bubbled to the surface.

-Moribar Acropolis-

"Shaman-Ma!"

At the shrill cry of the partisan, the burley and gold encrusted guards immediately poised their half moon scythes in a cross in front of the high doors. Their eyes were not visible behind their sturdy and almost impenetrable helmets but the partisan knew that if he had been able to see them they would either be filled with nonchalance or annoyance. "Please!" he begged, ignoring his predisposed notion of dignity and getting on his knees, bowing so deep his forehead touched the ground. "It is imperative that I speak with Shaman-Ma or that someone carry across my message." The standing sentries stood still as statues. The partisan held up a finger for them to wait, as if they were paying attention to his scrawny form. From his waist he pulled a tiny brown sack that jingled in his shaking hands.

"I-it's all I have but I hope it shall suffice for at least one visit," he clenched the bag tightly in his palms, "please, just one visit."

The guards had yet to twitch.

His eyes widened in distress at their broad shouldered stance and their unresponsiveness. "Please!" he screamed, standing and grabbing the armor of one of the guards. At the sound of his shriek, two surrounding guards came to inspect the issue. "You don't understand!" he cried, his withering hands banging uselessly against the gold. "This isn't some useless attempt at camaraderie! We on the outside know that we are hardly granted with the gifts of Shaman-Ma, that we are just that—on the outside. But this," he was about to finish when his weary body was wrenched harshly from the front of the hearty doors. The two assisting guards pushed him harshly away from the door and stood like menacing giants to persuade the man to leave.

"It's not what you think!" he cried, standing weakly before stumbling to the sandy floor again. "This does not just concern my village," the assisting guards took another step closer to intimidate him. The man held his bony hands up as if to delay them. He spoke quicker. "This involves all of Moribar, of all people on this planet!" His breathing was rasping now as he reached the climax of his disposition. "It's the Valley!" he breathed, his voice forced in a harsh whisper, as if merely speaking the name would bring harm. "It's moving, expanding, and it's reached the brink of our borders!"

The guards froze, still revealing no emotion, but the trepidation marred their usually steady hands. The man, sensing he'd now earned an audience produced another sack from his waist and held it out to one of the large guards. "We must act quickly!" he demanded more than anything else when neither of the guards moved to take the sack from his hands. Their calloused hands gripped their weapons tighter, however, when the man opened the sack and poured some of its contents into his palm. "It will kill us all," he whispered again when the guards took two tentative steps backwards from what now pooled in his trembling hand. "_Pac mal_."

The guards rushed to open the door, leaving the frowning man on his knees in the warm sand, his hand now chilled with its contents. This was ground breaking, this would change their lives forever… if they lived to tell the tale.

His own words echoed blandly in his head, _pac mal_, and he briefly wondered if holding it was not such a good idea, if touching it would bring harm to himself or his family. Dropping the clump to the ground he watched in amazement as the ghastly grains changed to white as if the darkness was sucked from them. This was dangerous, this could very well destroy their whole planet if the Valley was truly awakening and expanding. His mind wondered if his warning was futile, if they'd all be destroyed anyway…

_Pac mal_.

Black sand.

-Somewhere in the Gobani Sands, Moribar-

She kneeled over his unresponsive frame in a cloud of worry. His chapped and crusted lips were white with dehydration and his skin, though somehow soft to the touch, was bronzed with the blazing sun. His hair was covered and wrapped in a white shawl that reeked of urine, most likely used to keep his body temperature low. Despite this, she could tell that he was a blonde (something not usually seen in Moribar) by his light, golden bangs plastered to his forehead in a dried mat of sweat.

Uttering some graphic expletive in her native language she clicked her tongue and grabbed his blistering arm, hauling the limb over her own tired shoulders. At this quick and jerky motion the long sleeve of his garb shifted to reveal the web of a tattoo covering the limb. Almost dropping him in the process, she harshly pulled up his sleeve to reveal that the tattoo crawled up his arm and disappeared under his garb in a whirl of twists, terms, and unrecognizable symbols.

She would have stood and awed at his beautiful body art but a more urgent response pulled her body towards the shade of her tent. She pushed the flap open in irritation and dragged the man in, setting him carefully on the ready-made bed she'd been planning to nap on. With nimble hands she removed all of his garb, as well as the urine soaked item, and was careful to look only at his feet when she removed his tapered pants. Another notification that this mysterious young man wasn't a part of her glorious Moribari lands was the fact that the skin beneath his worn garb was unusually pale. His almost alabaster skin stood out inversely to the black tattoo that protected his entire upper body. She kneeled by his body, protected by her worn blanket, and placed a speculative finger to her chin in contemplation. This man could be dangerous, she thought, he could be into some sort of cult that imposed strange rites and rituals. But at the same time his face looked so young, so calm, so… innocent. There was a roundness to his cheeks and a softness to his skin that screamed a sort of purity she could not place.

"Makoto-shah," came a hesitant voice from the flap of her tent, followed by a short scuffle and the choked sound of air being forced out of a man's body. She sighed and stood her highest, head almost reaching the top of her tent, before turning to acknowledge the presence at her 'door'.

His dark hair was tousled and specs of sand dotted it like sugar on top of a cupcake. The intense blue eyes of her oldest friend glared at her proud stance and leaned eagerly around her to spot the still form lying in an almost corpse like sleep on her bed. "We need to move out, Makoto," he grunted, hands placed in an awkward grace at his hips. "The caravan's tired and we're close to the capital. Can he be moved easily?"

She closed her eyes. "You're too hasty, Rait," she countered, beginning to remove the customary golden thread weaved intermittently throughout her auburn curls. "The sun is in the final quarter of the sky and I'm sure the caravan can wait a day." She placed the golden thread on a red pillow when it had been successfully removed from her locks and turned to pin her friend with a raised eyebrow. "And no, right now would not be an easy time to move the newest addition to our group." At his scowl she smirked.

"He will most likely wake in the middle of the night, yes?"

"Yes."

"And you, oh great Makoto-shah, will be the one to take care of him in his time of need?" he mumbled venomously, eyes squinted and lips pursed. "And when you have been deprived of your precious hours of minimal sleep, my friend, you will continue to lead us to the capital when the sun is in the first quarter of the sky?" His tone lightened and his body eased into a more laid back and casual stance.

Makoto smiled. "Of course, Rait."

He sighed and nodded before turning to lift the flap of her tent. "Then that is all I ask for." And he was gone.

-Bank of the River Sai, Amilee-

The usually rapid waters were calm today, most likely in correspondence to the now burning sun above her, and it made Ami smile as she dipped her minimal amount of laundry into the Sai to wash it. The sun in Amilee was unusual and she planned to take full advantage of the bright day; perhaps she'd go to the market or meet up with friends for a drink or something, there was no reason to stay cooped up in her small shack when she could enjoy the richness of such bright rays.

Grinning hard now, she pulled her clothing from the river and took it over to the line to hang dry. She couldn't help but laugh when the sun shone through the water droplets, making them like tiny glass pearls dripping off of her clothes. Taking an already dried, white dress from the line she swung it around for a moment, attempting to dance with it in a cliché manner as if she'd just met the man of her dreams. When her 'dance of fate' had ended, she pulled the thin cotton dress over her head, but got distracted by a crash coming from the house beside her and got tangled in the web of it's arms.

Freeing herself from the strenuous action she rushed to the wooden fence that kept her neighbor's yard, who happened to be the chief correspondent of inter-regional relations, and pressed her ear against the wooden planks.

"Paza."

She could hear the urgency and longing in his wife's voice, a longing for something she couldn't quite place. She'd said his name in what Ami could just barely recognize as fear. Kneeling, though knowing she shouldn't be doing so, Ami attempted to peek through a tiny splinter in the wooden barricade.

"Paza please don't go, don't go anywhere near it."

She heard a heavy sigh come from Paza. Through the crack Ami could only see his wife and the worry that marred her beautiful features. She was holding her hands in a tight embrace at the crease of her naked breast, wringing her fingers in an almost painful action. "Let Most High go, not you."

Ami viewed Paza delving a placating hand into his wife's dark hair and she leaned into it, as if only the proximity of his warm palm was the satisfaction of getting him to stay. "Do not worry, Mari," he whispered back, placing a kiss to her forehead, "Most High is going to the Crest for the Meeting of Rulers. My job is done, dear."

Ami's throat tightened as his wife, Mari, gave a choked sob. Ami had always had a soft spot for Mari; she was a kind and loving person, a woman who'd looked after the well-being young bluenette when her mother had suddenly passed away. She'd taught her the fundamental values of living and the rudimentary needs and skills she deemed Ami worthy to possess.

She sobbed again and Ami was only faintly aware that tears stung in her eyes, ruining her once jovial view of the sun.

"But what are we going to _do_?" she almost wailed, throwing her arms out to grip futilely at her husbands bare chest.

"Mari…"

"Not just us, Paza, what about the neighborhood, what about the Fesha's, our dearest friends, what about Ami?"

The young girl blinked at her name and felt a warmth rise to her cheeks. It was indescribable, Mari's ability to care for people and her ability to sound so exceptionally sincere. Such altruism she possessed. She was worried about her, _her_, a young next door neighbor who'd hardly been able to return such an unbridled gift with as much fervor. Ultimately she felt guilty that she couldn't show Mari the same care that she exuded. But what was she so worried about?

"Mari—" her husband began only to be cut off by his nearly frantic wife.

"Not just Amilee, what about Cantina, Cicerone, and poor, poor Moribar? They'll surely be the first ones to be consumed by—" her worry was cut off by Paza's hand, halting whatever evil she'd meant to mention. In it's wake came a soothing kiss to the forehead as Paza took her trembling fingers.

He gave her small hands a squeeze. "Please do not mention this aloud, Mari. There's no need to worry anyone, Most High and the other Ruler's will figure it out, they'll set things straight. Have faith," he whispered, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her toward their shack.

"But Paza," Ami heard as their voices began to get fainter and fainter as they reached the back door. She could no longer see them, but she could hear their light steps on the backyard grass. "Black sand… on the borders of Moribar?"

Ami's heart sank as their voices faded into nothingness. The slam of their wooden door hardly phased her and it felt as if her knees had been locked into an uncomfortable kneeling position.

Black sand was on the border of Moribar. If this was true (which it had to be, since it came from Paza himself) then a card had been played in the hand of her fate that she though had been only fabricated, a myth, a farce. Her mind soared to a time when her mother was still alive…

"_Ami," the head doctor of the region whispered as she turned her head from the stars above to her young daughter on the bed of grass beside her. Ami didn't move, her eyes glued to the bright balls of gas above their head. Her mom gave her side a tiny nudge and her daughter's only acknowledgement that she'd been called upon was the fractional shift of her eyes toward her mother's direction. "Ami."_

"_Yes, mother?" she whispered, as if speaking above a certain octave would pop the peaceful bubble of blissful ignorance she'd surrounded herself with._

_Ami's mother frowned. "Now is not the time to be blasé, daughter, there's something very important that I need to tell you. It's imperative that you listen, and carefully at that." Her harsh tone, which was rarely directed at her daughter, caused Ami to blush and sit up, hands folded, embarrassed, in her lap. _

"_I'm sorry, mother," she mumbled, twittering her now clasped fingers._

_Ami's mother sighed. "This is the only time I will ever mention this, and I want you to say nothing to anybody else of it. Do you understand?"_

_Ami nodded._

_Her mother took her hand and clasped the fleshy fingers in her own, rubbing the soft skin against her cheek. "Ami, my only baby," she started, putting her other hand to her daughters head, pushing the short, blue bangs from her beautiful face. Ami had always been regarded as one of the most striking children of their neighborhood. Not the most beautiful, but definitely one of the most striking in her large, seemingly all knowing eyes. One of the reasons that she…_

_Ami's mother sighed again, this one with a twinge of anger and sorrow. "If you ever hear of a disturbance in Moribar, you must, and absolutely must, go there."_

_Ami's eyes, the ones said to bear wisdom beyond her years, widened in confusion. "Go there? But mother, if there's a disturbance in Moribar wouldn't I want to be far away?"_

_Her mother tilted up her chin. "I'm not talking about regional confrontations, my child. Such negligible things are the pointless distractions the other regions manifest to satisfy both their egos and their bloodthirsty hearts." She shook her head in disgust. "No, I'm talking about natural phenomenon, Ami. If something… changes within Moribar you must leave Amilee, leave your home and GO there. Go to a woman named Belhaj, she lives in the second ring around the Acropolis, her door will be red, the only red one."_

_Ami shook her head and pulled it gently from her mother's tender grasp. "But mother, why? You have yet to answer me that question. And what about you, will you not come with me?"_

_Her mother's smile at this point intimated that there was something churning in her mind that she was not allowed to discuss. Her eyes, which had strayed from her daughter's lithe form, crawled back and stared into Ami's questioning orbs. "First, daughter, you must promise me. Tell no one."_

_Her gaze was hard, and Ami almost looked away in fear. "Y-yes mother, I promise."_

_The look softened and Ami wanted to cry at her mother's vulnerable look. "You've always wondered why I named you Ami, haven't you? Since you were even younger than you are now, you've questioned why I'd named you after this peaceful region. Well, my daughter, it's because you are Amilee, and Amilee is a part of you. You are the only one who can carry it with you when you leave."_

_If Ami had been wise beyond her years, her wisdom was weak in confrontation to her mother's cryptic words. "But I don't under—"_

"_As for the second part of your question Ami," she began, gaining her bearing by grabbing onto the grass beside her. "I will have passed away by then."_

_At this, Ami did cry. _

Ami's wide eyes wandered left and right, her hand gripping at her frantically beating heart. It was now, this was the natural phenom that her mother had spoken of. Now was the time.

Now was the time to flee.

...

This is my middle-work, since Ascension is temporarily "out of order". If you haven't guessed yet, it's a made up planet with made up regions. Moribar and Amilee are two, The Valley being attatched to Moribar. The other two will be revealed in the next chapter, as well as more on what's actually happening. For some reason I wanted the first chapter to be pretty cryptic…who knows why. I was kinda pissed I couldn't come up with a better title, but hey, it pretty much works. Review if you feel so obliged.


	2. Book Barbarians and Somnolence

**The Valley**

**Chapter Two**: **Book Barbarians and Somnolence**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing

-High Street Shops, Cantina-

For Trowa, Cantina was the perfect location to live. Not for the people (absolutely not for the people) but for the region, the location in itself. While Moribar contained the sandy region of the planet in the middle of what was dubbed the Desert Trail, the Cantina Forests overwhelmed the southeastern tip of the planet. Luscious vegetation cloistered together to create a green leafed utopia. Houses remained perched within trees, walkways of firmly roped wood made for bridges and in essence, streets. The people of Cantina rarely touched the grassy forest floors. Only when the children wanted to play during the Warm Days, market days, and those unfortunate times when the region went into battle did they disturb the velvet carpet.

Battle. That was the one thing that corrupted Cantina. For such a gorgeous country its people were nasty and bloodthirsty. Not all of them, of course, but the majority remained a caustic bunch of aristocrats who loved battle just for the sake of it. Usually the army was used to raid Amilee, the most peaceful of the regions, because they never retaliated (something that infuriated the commanders of the Cantinan troops).

For this reason Trowa usually remained silent, a petty hello or morning conversation with any of those he lived near were neither worth his time nor his breath. Had it not been for the agonizingly beautiful location of Cantina he would have moved long ago, most likely to the Mountains of Cicerone. But Trowa was fine on his own, even out of those who weren't sassy individuals he hadn't found many he'd spare a conversation with.

Books were his passion, his escape from the pathetic population of his beautiful region. With the time he spent not working, helping to expand the 'high streets' of Cantina amongst the trees, he was busy buying books from a small store others rarely even glanced at (thank goodness). Within was a man, his name unknown to Trowa and Trowa's name unknown to him. They'd known each other for years under the assumed aliases of Shopkeep and No-name.

He faced that store now and every step he took toward it caused goose bumps to rise to his flesh. He was excited and nothing made him like this except books. And today he was receiving an especially exceptional one.

It was one of the five Forbidden Books.

Shopkeep, on his journey to Moribar in search of market books on their culture and language, had come across a shady man. The rest was history, as Shopkeep said. He refused to tell Trowa the story, and understandably at that. He entered the store and inhaled deeply, the musty scent of old and new pages the only things capable of bringing a smile to his face. His feet moved of their own accord, following a well known path he'd worn into the wooden floors and mapped within his head. There was movement to his right and Trowa froze, the SMILE all but falling dramatically from his lips.

There was someone else in the store.

It wasn't Shopkeep, that was for sure, because it wasn't even a man. It was a woman. Her hair was long and somehow bright in the dim lighting of the store. A glowing blonde head of hair swiveled in his direction at the halting of his footsteps before turning back to the shelf she was inspecting without a second thought, as though disinterested.

Trowa didn't like other people in his store. The words were out of his mouth before he could pull them back. "What are you doing here?"

The girl had yet to move for a moment, still thumbing through the books. She mumbled an 'ah ha!' and pulled one from the shelf to add to the one other she already held in her slender arms. Still with a dismissive air she turned to Trowa, only sparing him a few seconds of a glance before looking down to the covers of her books. To Trowa's astonishment they read _Classical Poetry of Amilee, _and _Smoke of the Mountains: A Complete History of Cicerone._ "Isn't it obvious?" she responded with a raised eyebrow.

Trowa's eyes remained on her books as she stared at him, confused. He'd bought those two books not long ago and consequently he knew why she was buying them together. There could only be one reason.

"You know?"

At first she stared at him with a blank look, confusion written all over her face before a flash of recognition glistened in her gorgeous blue eyes. This was soon veiled by a demure look to the wooden floors, where her foot shuffled around a tiny pebble. "Know what?"

He was upon her in a second, his large hands grabbing her shoulders in a sudden flurry of motion. The emotions he was feeling were foreign and his body reacted on its own; he wasn't quite sure how to handle or control it. He gave her shoulders a slight shake, her eyes now wide in shock. "How do you know?" he demanded, a flurry of emotions swarming through his body. Confusion, worry, anger, excitement… these clouded his eyes as he stared down at her lithe form, searching her frantic blue eyes for answers.

"I-I don't—"

"No-name!"

Both eyes turned respectfully to the old, bumbling man coming to the girl's rescue. His old and withered hands pried Trowa's strong fingers from her soft skin and turned to him with a reproachful look. "What in all of Cantina are you doing manhandling my second best customer?"

"Second best customer?" they asked at the same time.

Trowa looked over to the girl he'd previously been shaking, who looked back at him in amusement before turning to Shopkeep in search of answers. He chuckled.

"He's slightly older than you, dearie, he began buying books a few moons before you. That is my only distinction." He gave her a small pat on the head. "If it were solely based on dedication and love of books instead of income, darling, then you two would be tied."

Trowa frowned. "Tied?" he asked. "But I come here most every day and I've never seen her before."

After placing the two books that were becoming heavy in her hands into a small satchel at her waist, she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. "And I've never seen you," she retorted, giving him a testing stare. Then her demeanor suddenly switched, like an off light to on. Her smile lit up the room as she held out a hand and laughed at Trowa's raised eyebrow. "Minako," she said.

The brunette could only stare at her hand. He was confused. Utterly and completely confused. Of course his façade never revealed this, for it remained steady, cool, and collected. But frankly, he could only stare at her hand while his head swam with myriad questions.

Shopkeep chuckled as Minako scratched the back of her head.

"Is he," she raised her eyebrows, nodding her head towards Trowa, "you know, a bit…" she whispered her last word, "slow?"

Shopkeep patted her hand in a loving manner with another chuckle. "No, dearie, he just doesn't speak much." Out of the corner of his mouth he added, "not much of a people person either."

Minako pursed her lips before mouthing a dramatic "riiiight," towards Shopkeep, who smiled at her teasing antics, those which Trowa still had yet to react to.

If Trowa thought he had enough questions cluttering his head, he had another thing coming when Shopkeep cleared his throat, a serious look crossing his wizened eyes.

"Now, about the book you both really came for…"

His two listeners eyed each other, confusion and playfulness set aside, replaced with skepticism.

_The book BOTH of them came for?_

-Temple of Ashra, Cicerone-

The Temple Virgins had, at the command of the Priestesses, given the Prophesy a cup of hot tea, infused with the sleeping flower of Cantina; Menola. The Prophesy now lay in a room with its paper doors open, leading out to a small garden that overlooked the edge of the High Mountain. Her dark yet luminous hair was fanned out sporadically amongst her bedding and along her pillow, creating an immense contrast of raven and white. Her lovely face no longer looked tense, as it did in her waking hours and even some of the nights when she slept, but now held a sort of childish innocence, a full relaxation.

Today was the Dream Day, a day in which otherworldly messages came to the people of Cicerone through the mind of the blessed Prophesy, none other than this young, raven haired girl.

She'd begun her sleep at almost dawn of that morning, collecting messages throughout the time of her slumber until the sun was in the final quarter of the sky.

She stirred.

Large eyes opened slowly and velvety orbs of violet peeked out from beneath gorgeous raven lashes. She blinked a few times, trying to shake the somnolence from her weary body. She sat up slowly, realizing most of her people would be at the Sun Temple around now. Sure enough their chanting and harmonizing voices floated down from the highest peak of the High Mountain, the streams of music cascading down the mountain in waves of notes.

The cool air came when the sun disappeared over the horizon and the music reached its highest level. The Prophesy shivered and pulled her blankets back over her white robed shoulders. How in all of Cicerone she'd succumb to the dream she'd had was lost to her. In her time alone, she would have begun to cry, had one of the Temple Virgins not opened the sliding door, leading to the interior of the Temple of Ashra.

The Temple Virgin bowed on her knees and tucked in her head. "Ashra ba malae, Prophesy."

Ashra blesses you. If she'd had the energy and the wit about her to do it, the Prophesy would have snorted and rolled her eyes. She vowed for a sigh instead. "You know my name, Majra," she mumbled, closing her eyes and listening harder to the now softer hymns being recited.

The Temple Virgin relaxed a bit and folded her feet under her bottom. Cupping her hands in her lap she gave the Prophesy a weary sigh. "It's custom to bless you, Prophesy, and if anyone heard me call you by your given name then surely I would be released from my duties and punished."

The Prophesy turned away from her, her back now the face that the Temple Virgin Majra would speak to. It wasn't like she wanted to be the Prophesy, she didn't want to be the one who would bring salvation to her people. What did they need saving from anyway? Cicerone was a thriving region and a dedicated one at that. So why—

"What did you dream, Prophesy? I've come to collect the messages for High Priestess Ikai," the Temple Virgin questioned, standing up to close the paper door that lead to the garden, the nights air cold on her skin. She sat back down in the same folded style at the side of the Prophesy's bed, looking at her with earnest eyes.

The Prophesy sighed.

"There was a man," she began, eyes closing so as to envision clearly what she'd dreamt. "He was beautiful, and from a utopian land unlike any of those that curse this planet."

The Temple Virgin sighed at her nihilistic outlook but urged her to continue.

"He said he was coming to Cicerone for one reason and one reason alone," the Prophesy paused for a moment, opening her previously closed eyes. Her lips pursed in worry as she softly continued. "He was coming here to collect the Light of the Valley."

At the mention of the Valley the Temple Virgin's eyes flashed and the Prophesy could tell that there was something that she wanted to say. "What is it?" she asked quietly, leaning on her elbow.

The Temple Virgin blinked, watching as the Prophesy's hair fell over her shoulder. "My, Prophesy, your hair truly is very long." Slithery strands of raven surrounded the bed in a protective blanket around the Prophesy, who sighed at the Temple Virgin's attempt at a diversion.

"You know I'm not allowed to cut it, Majra, and I suggest that you cease trying to divert my question." At first her tone was harsh, but her usually tense eyes became soft and pleading. "What have you heard of the Valley?"

The Temple Virgin sighed and fidgeted with a strand of her wavy hair. "I suppose I could tell you," she mumbled, looking of into space, the conflict of whether or not to do it battling within her blue eyes.

The Prophesy sighed impatiently. "Yes, well, get on with it."

The Temple Virgin pursed her lips in worry. "High Priestess has gone to the Crest for the Meeting of Rulers. Apparently there's been a disturbance at the borders of Moribar."

At this the Prophesy turned pasty white. "A disturbance at the border of Moribar?" she repeated, fingers clenching her white covers tightly. "But that could only mean there's been a run in with—"

"The Valley," the Temple Virgin finished for her.

The Prophesy put a finger to her lips, and pushed a strand of hair from her face. "So that's what he meant…"

The Temple Virgin perked up. "More of your dream, Prophesy?"

But the Prophesy was barely listening to her now, her mind swinging back and forth between her drug induced sleep and her forthcoming revelations. "It's black sand, isn't it?" she asked, still not looking up at the girl sitting beside her, keeping her head low and eyes plastered to her white covers. "The disturbance is black sand?" Out of her corner of her eye she saw the Temple Virgin nod. "When the High Priestess returns tell her to place a travel ban on Moribar. Absolutely no one is allowed to go there."

The Temple Virgin was so shocked by her assertive input that her honorifics slipped up. "But Rei—"

"Just do it, Majra," she pleaded, twisting the covers in her shaking hands. "We have to keep our people out of Moribar. We have to keep everyone away from that black sand."

………………..

And voila, another chapter. I'm not speedy, but I'd say I've got a faster chapter rate than most other people, seeing as how there are cobwebs now growing on this section. For some reason, however, I just can't give it up.

Thank you to my two reviewers **Momosa Loves** and **TopazDragon**. You guys are awesome and I appreciate your comments and compliments 

Until next time, my friends…


	3. Resilient Women vs Calculating Men

**The Valley**

**Chapter Three: Resilient Women vs. Calculating Men**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing.

* * *

-Moribar-

Heero and Treize had been friends since before either of them could remember. Heero being the only one who could be patient enough to endure Treize's impermeable sarcasm and frequent temper, and Treize the only one able to endure Heero's quiet and cold nature. They fit together like fire and ice.

Treize was always the one to get them into trouble when they were younger; he was a curious boy and had numerous temptations to try things children of his age should not have tried to do. He was extremely protective of Heero, whether his charge liked it or not. Heero only liked Treize because he was interesting. Moribar was possibly one of the most boring regions he could think of on the entire planet. Its resources were dull, the people were scattered across the Desert Trail in poverty, and the old Shaman-ma was a miserable ruler.

So what did Heero do? He joined the Palace Guard.

At age twelve he joined in haste and competed with elder men for a high-ranking, difficult position. He was a battle prodigy. He was swift on his feet and had a mind that calculated like only the best mathematicians. He incorporated silence, agile movements, strength, and an uncanny ability to put his mission before anything else to create what all of the Palace Guard dubbed the perfect warrior.

And still, he pushed others away.

Treize, on the other hand, gained numerous friends with his outgoing demeanor and exuberant charisma. Some called him foolish, others a dunce, but those close to the good-looking boy knew better. His mind was unbelievable. He could decipher a code in a minute, create a battle strategy in a matter of seconds, calculate money faster than any market man, and tell any woman just the right words to woo them off to bed. His mind was levels above even Heero's.

Once he'd been walking through the halls of the palace looking for Heero in his normally secluded room when he'd come upon two nobles playing a game of chess. As with any genius he played out moves hundreds of times over in his head before strategically winning the game in minutes. So impressed by this the nobles brought him to the Shaman-ma immediately. After numerous mind, dedication, and loyalty tests Treize had become the Shaman-ma's adviser in the span of merely half a growing season. At the ripe age of fourteen Treize had become the smartest person in all of Moribar.

Only months after his inauguration into his position, Treize became witness to an even that bolstered his ego and placed a corrupt virus into his brain for the rest of his years. He'd witnessed _her_ downfall, _her_ blood, a disaster that brought around the end of _her_ world and that of her family.

And within those restraints, he blackmailed her.

She was to do anything for him, everything for him, and not tell a soul or he would tip over the glass that was her life and spill the acidic secret that resided within. She was totally and completely _his_.

The only person he told her secret to had been Heero and Heero…did nothing about it. He did not tell Shaman-ma of her ignominy, he did not tell anyone of Treize's intolerable cruelty, and he did not tell anyone that she was a victim of continuous berating and embarrassment. Heero merely watched whenever Treize jabbed her with an unforgiving sneer or contemptuous words. He, for some reason, would not feel any hate or disappointment toward Treize, nor could he feel disgust or pity for his plaything. Heero merely observed.

She'd inserted herself into a traveling caravan, a group of what he would call miscreants who lollygagged around collecting rare artifacts for the Shaman-ma to put in his treasured Palace Museum. Recently she'd gone out on a job and had been out for nearly an entire moon cycle. She'd left at nearly full, the moon an odd, almost circle that made anyone want to draw just the smallest line around the outside to complete it. Now it hung in the air like a sliver to another world, the dark sky above a soup of blackness and the moon a gateway to a heavenly realm.

Her caravan arrived late, their excuse being that they'd found and taken care of a straggler unconscious on the path. Given that they'd come back with the relic he'd asked for they were pardoned and told to dress for a welcoming back feast.

Makoto and Rait were on their knees with their foreheads touching the cold marble floors in front of the gold encrusted throne that the Shaman-ma sat upon as he ordered them this. Treize stood next to him on his left in a bright yellow and orange robe that was covered with golden sewn stars. His personal guard, Heero, stood to his right garbed in his usual fighting attire, always ready for any attack. Minor guards flanked the walls of the throne room, the suns on the chest of their armor gleaming in the brightly lit room.

"Rait," Shaman-ma's voice bellowed, his voice reaching the highest point of the ceiling. "You are dismissed." His command echoed amongst his subjects and Rait stood, bowed with his hands clasped together, and with one last look and Makoto's kneeling form, he left the throne room. Once it was sure that he had left, Shaman-ma turned to Makoto.

"Makoto, I will give you the moments before dinner to spend with my two trusty men beside me." He gave a smile to both Treize and Heero, Treize the only one to return it. "I'm sure it's hard being away from best friends for so long. First, however, you must bathe," he said and his old, withering smile cause Makoto's lips to turn up in a brief moment of happiness. "No matter how beautiful you are, caravan trips leave everyone smelling like the market people."

He gave a small chuckle. "Treize and Heero, you bathed not long ago. Make sure the servants are preparing the dining hall correctly. You know how I like it."

"Of course Shaman-ma," Treize replied, not removing his eyes from Makoto's kneeled form the entire time. "Nothing less than magnificent for you," he said, grinning almost suspiciously as he left the throne room. A weight seemed to be lifted off of Makoto's shoulders and her kneeled stance became more relaxed.

Shaman-ma waved his gold drenched arms. "Now off the baths with you." He snapped his fingers and two warriors stepped away from the wall. "Accompany her," were his simple words.

Makoto stood, cautious of how her movements reverberated throughout the room. She bowed once more before walking on the tips of her tired toes to the high golden doors behind her. The two guards shuffled a customary three paces behind her, their unfortunately heavy attire irking Makoto's already short fuse. They followed her down the winding halls to the bathhouse and stood silently without a word as she gruffly mumbled her thanks over her shoulder, not breaking her stride, and stepped in to the women's section of the bathhouse. The two guards looked at each other at their silent dismissal and one of them shrugged his shoulders.

-In the Bath House, Women's side-

Makoto sighed as the bathhouse maidens disrobed her. They tugged at the intricate ties that held her garment up as another group pulled gently at the woven gold throughout her hair. When they were done they pulled her over to a stool, where they poured water over her body and washed it with sweet smelling soaps before they washed her long curls. When she was rinsed, shaven and clean they led her to the hot bath. The hot bath was a single tub within the intricately tiled floor that steamed up the entire room. It was almost purely to relax and loosen the tense muscles. Inside the women's hot bath was a bar of fresh scented soap for second washing in a dish that hung directly beside the swirling curls of moist steam that were emitted from its calm surface.

The bathhouse maidens shut the diaphanous curtains that led to the small room of solace as Makoto slid in to the bath leisurely, sighing heartily at the tingle that swept through her body at cleanliness. Almost a full moon cycle away from a clean water would make anyone putty at the sign of a warm bath. She let the water take in her buoyancy and her arms came to float beside her, legs propped precariously on the bath's slippery, tiled edge. Here is where she could remove her mask, here is where she could let the disappointment at return mar her usually stoic face, here, and only here, is where she would ever dream of letting even a single mark of anguish set in her features.

She'd seen the way Treize was looking at her in the throne room; his pleasure at her return was all too apparent. She'd seen the obvious negligence of Rait as well, when Shaman-ma dismissed him so suddenly. No bath for those who were born on the outside. Rait would not be at the return dinner, Makoto was sure of that, and there would be no sturdy pole for her to lean on when Treize extended his unrighteous hand on her dignity once again. Her eyes squeezed close as she pondered her unfortunate position. Self-pity was not really her thing but when your reputation, well-being, when your life was pitted in the palm of somebody else it was hard to not cringe or be angered by being locked in a cage of stringent possession and restrain.

Sitting for a few more moments of unlocked peace she placed her now water-withered fingers over her emotion-doused face. With a pitiful, small moan she anchored her feet to the ground and rid her body of its buoyancy but stepping from the warm waters. Steam clung to her wet flesh, curls swinging around her arms, branches unfurling from the crevice of her spine as if calling her body back to the depths of her bath, the potion of ease. Those beckoning feelings went unheeded and the steam dissipated into thin air as Makoto wrapped herself in a towel, stepping carefully and slowly beyond the curtains on the slick tile.

The bathhouse maidens scurried to her side and patted her down, continuing with the typical routine of lotions, perfumes, and face paint. The bath was what Makoto always came for, but the custom was to look proper for Shaman-ma, thus she did as custom would have her do. When the flighty hands of the bathhouse maidens ceased she picked herself up and walked slowly to another curtained off room, one where she knew there'd be laying a dress, her golden hair-weaving ornament, and a note. She pulled back the curtains hastily and strode past the dress, past the gold, and straight to the pink tinged envelope that sat daintily on the table. On the cover was his strangely elegant handwriting curving out the letters to her name. With careful hands she opened it and pulled out a small piece of paper.

_Dear Makoto,_

_I hope your attempt to rid yourself of me for a whole moon cycle proves to be worthwhile. I hear you've brought a straggler into the midst of our borders, what a Good Samaritan you're turning out to be. Now, I know we both want this night to go smoothly so here's what you must do…_

* * *

-Bookstore, Cantina-

Minako blinked suddenly. A confused twinge clouded her once bright, almost arrogantly so, eyes. "Both of us?" Her eyes crept slowly to her left where she witnessed the brown haired man next to her with a stone visage. His jade eyes were focused solely on the anxious looking shop keeper as he rummaged furiously behind the counter. Despite her immense curiosity in the entire jumbled situation, her inquisitiveness solely remained on the confusing specimen beside her.

He knew what she knew.

He'd eyed her books suspiciously when he'd trudged his way into the store. He'd grabbed her shoulders and manhandled her. He'd come to the store in search of the very same thing she'd come for. It was as if he could feel her eyes boring holes into his face as he turned and stared directly at her, a dark look on his face that held an emotion Minako couldn't quite put her finger on. The fact that he caught her staring at him never deterred Minako from her mission. Braving a new stance she turned so that her entire body faced him and her eyes searched him like a comb through hair.

His bangs were long and only one eye loomed out from beneath them to stare at her strange ministration. Minako placed her hands to her hips in a contrapposto stance, head cocked sassily to the right as she raised an eyebrow in question of his attire. Black. He wore all black.

Placing a finger to her chin Minako frowned. "All black. Hmm," her eyes rose to his and they matched each other in a momentary staring contest. "Either you're trying to stand out or you're trying to remain invisible."

Trowa had yet to reveal what he thought of her probing ways as he merely watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye. The single statement that came out of his lips however, was one that she wouldn't forget for a long time.

"And you're either very happy or very sad."

Her flighty eyes froze and rose to meet his harsh green ones. Minako's contrapposto stance eased so that she stood straight. She couldn't tell what emotion her face was giving to the strange and oddly perceptive man beside her but inside her stomach was a whirlwind of butterflies. Erasing whatever had been plastered to her face before Minako gave him a big smile and gave him a punch on the shoulder that was just a little too hard to be friendly. "You're unbelievable," she laughed.

Trowa couldn't tell if she was awestruck and surprised, or merely strange and joking. This Minako girl, though quite the looker, obviously had some loose screws in her head. Not that he didn't himself, but still.

Their strange and un-nameable battle was cut short when the shop keep heaved a huge book onto the counter. It was brown, a dusty old book with yellowing dog-eared pages. The binding was loose and though it wasn't long, it was thick. The cover was covered in black curvilinear writing that, from the distance they were standing at, was indiscernible. Minako felt as if she could _smell_ the age wafting from the pages of the book as the shop keep wrapped it carefully in a soft black cloth.

The shop keep sighed. "You're probably wondering why I promised both of you this book." Their silence answered his question. The shop keep sighed again, heavier this time. "I've known both of you for a long time, and though it may only be through the transactions of books, and though both of you are… unique in your own way, needless to say I believe I've judged your character well."

Trowa could not even tear his eyes from the book that lay on the counter before him. He'd been waiting for a breakthrough like this for years. His ears were barely picking up Shopkeep's message but there was a part of his brain that kept listening to his string of words because, though he'd finally reached a breakthrough point, he had to share it with someone else.

"Neither of you are greedy, neither of you succumb to this miserable region's strange obsession with war and, though you two may not know it, you are the only ones who venture past the Border Pastures to the Sai River by yourself."

Minako, shocked, could not help a small intake of breath. She noticed even Trowa narrowed his eyes slightly at the shop keep's bold statement. So he was the one who made the other pathway…

Whenever Minako wanted to escape the Cantinan people or read a book she'd bought, the only place to go without being bothered or seen was past the Border Pastures near Amilee, and to the bank of the River Sai. When the level of the grass of the Border Pastures lowered Minako always went left, but over the years she noticed a worn path that led to the right. She'd always been curious of it, but had never built up the courage to follow it. It could have been a spy or a rogue soldier from Cantina itself sneaking into Amilee.

But now she knew that other path was his…

The shop keep sighed. "What you both seek is dangerous," his words turned grave as he placed a tentative hand to the book in front of him. "And yet, beside my better judgment, I'm giving it to you…" Shopkeep eyed them both carefully, "To share."

……………

Trowa stood outside of the bookstore, the weight of the book overtaking his hands as he began to walk down the high streets of Cantina. He hadn't gotten far, however, before a tug on the back of his shirt brought him to a stop. He turned to face Minako who stood sinisterly with her hands on her hips. Despite her bubbly looks, Trowa could firmly say she had an awfully good angry face.

"That book," she growled, barely opening her mouth to reveal her message, "is just as much mine as it is yours." She crossed her light arms over her chest. "Thus I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge me as an actual person and a… colleague of sorts if we are to pool our knowledge together and unlock the key to this mystery."

Trowa stared at her impassively before turning and walking away. Over his shoulder he threw back, "Frankly I don't need your help. Girls like you shouldn't bother sticking their noses where they don't belong." The curtness of his tone drove Minako off the edge. That last string had been drawn.

"That's it, jackass," Minako huffed as she grabbed a hair tie from her wrist and pulled her long locks back into a ponytail. Storming up to him she swung in front of him and stopped him with a hand to his chest. Ignoring the weird stares people were giving her, Minako lowered her voice to a level so that only he could hear her.

"Look, bitch," she said lowly, livid with how he could merely walk away with the book, her book, their book, after the shop keep had JUST proclaimed it under the possession of them both. "Frankly I understand how you wouldn't want to be seen with, linked with, or connected to me. This loner persona you deem to uphold is cool and all but frankly you're just acting like a little shit, you immature bastard."

Little did Trowa know, Minako had quite the dirty mouth.

He raised a brow. "Need some soap to clean out that mouth of yours?"

Minako pushed her finger harder into his chest. "Vulgar language is simply the easiest way I can express my anger," she explained, "and I don't appreciate your dry humor." Then as an afterthought she added, "…asshole." Minako shook her head to relieve herself of mental stress and continued her berating. "Honestly I'd rather not be equated with you myself, so here's how things are going to work." Minako stuck her finger in his face, the only gesture she could maintain to keep his attention. "Either we work together on this every day or we switch off every three days."

Trowa looked down at the book in his hands… the key to solving the mystery that he'd been breaking down for years. Somehow he couldn't part with such a valuable object, but he couldn't share the answer to such a personal discovery with someone else. Despite how he disliked his options Trowa had a choice to make. Wait longer to figure out the answer or share it with someone else.

Trowa looked down at Minako's cute yet angry face and knew what his answer would be.

Frankly, he'd waited long enough.

"Everyday when the sun is in the third quarter of the sky meet at the brink of the Border Pastures."

Minako's livid anger turned to bright jubilance as she pulled Trowa down into a hug. "Great!" she exclaimed, kissing her hand and touching the book lightly. "I will see you tomorrow my darling," she said softly to the book before crossing her arms and looking up to Trowa's raised eyebrow.

"Be there or be square…uh… what was your name again?"

"…"

Minako looked at him skeptically. "Right, well, see you tomorrow No-name." With a wave over her shoulder Minako walked down the high streets and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

-Border of Moribar and Amilee-

The moment Ami heard furious bickering directly outside the official border crossing to Moribar she knew that she'd stumbled across something she shouldn't have. A disgruntled man stood his ground firmly and quarreled with the border guard in a language she didn't understand. The rolling tongue and the way that the words easily flowed from his lips was enough to convince her that they were speaking Cicerone.

Not daring to move from her perch behind the tree, Ami wondered if perhaps her mother had been slightly delusional when she'd fed her that strange story years ago. Maybe it was a joke. She couldn't help it when her throat began to tighten and her chest heaved with the need to release the salty remnants of insecurity. It pricked at her eyes and Ami clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her incoming whimpers.

Ami's biggest weakness was that she was an easy crier. She'd been that way ever since she was a little kid; a scrape on the knee would mean wails upon end for hours, a careful jibe from a kid would mean going home from school for the rest of the day. Her eyes spewed tears like water works, sometimes not even when she was sad, for some reason tears felt the need to remain in Ami's eyes.

Braving a glance behind the tree she saw that the fight had calmed down and the man with black hair had calmly pulled out a small brown sack from the bag on his back. Taking out a few coins he held them out to the border guard and with a gruff nod was let it.

It was unfortunate but Ami had no Passage Book. The small brown book that was carried by most was an integral part of traveling from one region to another. With low funding and the fact that most people from her region did not journey much, Ami had no means of proper travel, or the documents. She'd acted as her mother had specified, however, and stood now waiting for the doors to Moribar to completely open.

Her plan was novice, average, and completely and utterly stupid. In the back of her mind Ami knew this. Her fingers trembled in spite of her wishes, and her heart beat like a drum beneath her breast. Ami knew she was quick on her feet and hard to spot, features she hoped would gain her access to the region she needed to be in.

Kissing her fingers and looking quickly to the sky to pray to her mother, Ami braced herself and dashed from the trees, hoping that the guard was in such a huff from his previous skirmish that he wouldn't notice her tiny form sneaking beyond the borders.

Ami should have known that such a feat was not possible with one of the most heavily guarded regions. She was caught in a matter of seconds.

"Look there!" she heard someone call. There were a few shouts of "stop!" and "halt, intruder!" but Ami didn't dare look behind her. She was fast, she knew her feet would carry her far before they caught up with her but it was much harder to run on sand than on grass. She stumbled a bit, weary legs still not used to sinking into the sand instead of rebounding like off of grass. She'd been too rash! All the hype and hope she'd felt before drained from her body like she'd been going to the bathroom. There was no more hope cradled in the bottom of her stomach as she heard their feet begin to patter behind her. Criminals couldn't even sneak in to Moribar, what in the world had made her think she'd be able to? Unfortunately there was no stopping now, and Ami urged her sinking feet to move faster.

Never in a million moons would she have believed that she would be running from the Moribari guard, intruding on the lands of the Desert Trail in search of a woman her mother had told her to seek in a night of cryptic messages. Ami shook her head furiously and willed the tears to stay down, there was no way she was going to let her damnable habit weaken her body. Her feet ached and unlike Ami had previously thought, the sand was not so smooth at the border of Moribar; it was rough and stones and random greens sprouted from the ground in tufts of unclean masses.

She could hear the guard gaining on her but the twinkling candlelight of the Moribar acropolis was far from Ami's current position. Mentally Ami was beating herself up; she absolutely should have known that something so brash would not have worked. How dumb could one get?! _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ She cursed to herself, wanting with all of her heart to bang her head against something hard. _How could you Ami? How could you ruin your chances, how could you do this, how could you—"_

Ami's mental chastising was cut short when a body barreled into her own, slamming her harshly into the sand below. A leafy substance snatched at her face after a rock struck her temple and Ami cried out in pain. Whoever had run into her clutched at her body fiercely as they slid across the sand. She could feel the scratches forming on her arms and legs and her head felt dizzy as it struck against another very solid, very hard rock. Turning over slowly she tried to gain her breath back as well as sneak a good look at her capturer.

The setting sun cast shadows off of his features but it was the black haired man who'd been fighting with the border guard. His face held an angry glare and piercing eyes that remained solely on her withering form. His eyes softened in a brief moment when he caught sight of her eyes but he blinked and the stony glare returned. Ami could feel the trickle of something warm from her temple and knew for certain that it had to be her blood. She'd sweat before but Ami had never really bled seriously from a wound. There was something so different from the light release of sweat and the seemingly heavy discharge of blood as it oozed from her newly formed wound.

Her mouth gaped in an empty question as her captor pinned her non-struggling arms to the sand. She wanted to ask why, why he had barreled so hard into her when she was sure enough that he could have merely grabbed her? Why had he deemed himself worthy to tackle a girl into the ground? These words however did not escape her mouth, the shock of the entire situation somehow inhibiting Ami's use of her vocal chords.

Her captor seemed to understand her unspoken question. His charcoal eyes bore deep into hers as if he felt that he was giving a naughty child a lesson. "The law is created for a reason," he huffed out quickly, before the guards reached their resting point. "What will happen to the structure if administrations created are not followed by the subordinates of the law?"

Her vision was beginning to blur and the colors of the sunset mixed into a swirl of oranges and pinks. Ami knew she was losing consciousness but there was one thing she really wanted to know before she never saw this man again.

"N…" her vocal chords strained to ask him her question and he leaned closer to hear the words she wanted to speak. As he leaned in Ami could see every contour of his face, every worry line and every clean and beautiful angle of his bone structure. The man was in essence beautiful and his eyes held a knowledge that seemed a bit more extensive than her own. He looked older than her, marginally but enough to be significant and he smiled as he peered down at her immovable body. The words finally came to her awed mouth.

"…n-name…?"

His chuckle was soft though the humor didn't quite reach his dark eyes. The world faded and Ami's eyes rolled into the back of her head just as he whispered lightly to her his name.

In unconsciousness she rolled the name over and over again, as if trying to make sense of the strange man who literally took her out.

"…Wufei."

* * *

-Bathhouse, Moribar Palace-

Treize stood with a satisfied smirk grasping his lips. He was patiently waiting outside of Makoto's bathhouse room in a smug bubble of satisfaction. He knew she'd just be a bundle of joy tonight, meaning her cat claws would be out. Such uncouth behavior was not usually permitted but frankly he knew the little bird would be frustrated at being locked in the cage once again. He gave a simply egotistical sigh.

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, that insufferable smirk still looming on his lips as Heero rounded the corner. The quiet man stood a good meter away from his pondering friend. "I'm to inform you and Makoto that the dinner will be beginning soon and you two are called to the feasting hall."

Treize nodded his understanding, keeping his arms crossed and pushing himself from he wall with his back. "And I'm assuming that _you're_ assuming that I'll pass the message on to her?" he returned, keeping his eyes on the door as it opened. Makoto emerged from her room in a huff and a face full of rouge blush, most likely effects of the warmth of the bathhouse or perhaps the little letter he'd left her…

Heero glanced her way briefly before turning to leave. "Assuming…" was his only response as he began to walk away.

Makoto humphed as she walked up to them. "And so the lackey shuffles away," she taunted haughtily, crossing her eyes and raising her eyebrow in attitude at Heero's now stopped form. He looked over his shoulder at her without a readable expression.

"At least the blood stained on my hands is validated," he shot back almost casually.

Fury had reached critical level as Makoto's lips turned down in an unattractive sneer. "You bastard!" she called, aiming to launch herself at him before Treize caught her arm in a circulatory stopping grip. With a harsh tug she crashed into his sturdy body and he held her side, making sure that her struggling form couldn't escape. "I'll kill him, I swear!" she spat through grit teeth, working every muscle in her body to reach his relaxed and nonchalant person.

Treize sighed down at her and rolled his eyes. "Nobody can kill Heero, my dear. Haven't you heard? It's impossible…" he whispered into her ear. Heero was about to go on his way when all three heard a commotion stirring at near the opening doors to the palace. Four guards darted by, one of them stopping to address Treize and Heero.

"Sir!" he said to both of them, "there's been an intruder on Moribari grounds, she's been brought by a Cicerone for a reward from Shaman-ma. Your presence is requested at the front," was his simple command, eyeing Makoto strangely in Treize's grasp.

"A girl, you say?" she asked, pushing herself from his grip and brushing brusquely by Heero to follow the guards that had rushed past before— anything to rid herself of Treize and his stupid, stoic follower. She could hear the guard mumbling after her that she must remain behind Treize and Heero, but she didn't care, she could hear them following behind her anyway.

At the front of the palace there was a multitude of guards, Shaman-ma and wondering nobles flanking his shoulders. The spectacle to see was a small and scratched up girl in the grip of a tall, black haired man. Her mousy posture enticed a bent head and blue hair covering whatever might have lurked within her eyes as the black haired man shoved her toward Shaman-ma. The push was light, yet she somehow stumbled to the ground, the kneeling position she acquired almost seeming fitting for the occasion. Her body was small and her skin was pale, telltale characteristics of a person from Amilee.

"This," Shaman-ma bellowed, "is the intruder I've been summoned for?"

The black haired man folded his arms across his chest without an inkling of fright. "Those with big ideas may come in small packages, Shaman-ma," was his only response. His accent was obvious, he was from Cicerone, but what was he doing traveling to Moribar? Cicerone and Moribar had a difficult past and a…trouble relationship. But why had this mousy little girl tried to sneak in?

Makoto looked to her right and saw something mar Heero's face that she never thought she'd see. The introduction of the man named 'Wufei' went unnoticed to her ears as she stared in almost incredulity at Heero's, was it… confusion? His brows were creased and he stared at the girl on the floor with a mixture of almost surprise and what seemed like recognition.

Makoto's heart shuddered in her chest as she turned her eyes slowly from Heero to the small girl crumpled on the ground. Slowly the captive looked up, her blue hair parting to reveal a pretty heart shaped face and two of the kindest, saddest eyes Makoto felt she'd ever lain her own on. Heero went stiff beside her and Makoto's eyes shifted subliminally to him again. She watched his face carefully and tuned out all of the other commotion between the man Wufei and Shaman-ma. Heero's lips moved and Makoto barely caught the word that escaped.

"Ami?"

* * *

And the story is alive once again! Slowly I'm getting all of the characters in, a new one will be a big part of the next chapter. So I've left a lot of ups and downs for you, perhaps a little secret with each character: Makoto's 'hidden past', Minako's and Trowa's book, how Heero and Ami know each other...next chapter is going to be fun : )

**TopazDragon:** Thank you for your kind comments about my story, I really appreciate that. I've updated my stance on this whole section in my profile and yes, I still maintain a little bit of hope. The book is an integral part of the story but its true importance won't really show until way later on. I'll admit, I'm just like you, a romantic. Lovey dovey stuff will probably not show up, but that means no fluffy, cuddly, waffiness. Sexual tension, however, will definitely be unbearably apparent : ) I would encourage you not to assume anything quite yet about who it will be between but you will be satisfied, trust me. This chapter was devoid of the black sand but it will show up again. As for the man in Rei's dream...well, you'll see next chapter.

**MomosaLoves:** Thank you so much! I almost always try to write my best, sometimes I get lazy though : ) The story will be very long... that's one thing I can almost guarantee. The only drawback to this is that it may take time for some things to be revealed. We all have to try to get rid of these cobwebs! And don't worry, plenty more characters will show next chapter and more of the stories of ones that just showed up in this chapter will be divulged.

**reina shirahime **and **Rena H.M.****: **Thanks for your reviews! Plenty more will be revealed in the next chapter, your reviews are much appreciated : ).


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